The faces of all
my ladies are known to me. All are fair and all alike. But one
night, as I lay in the Dragon Couch, lost in speculation,
absorbed in contemplation of the Yin and the Yang, the night
passed for the solitary dreamer as a dream. In the darkness of
the dawn I rose still dreaming, and departed to the Pearl
Pavilion in the garden, and there remained an hour viewing the
sunrise and experiencing ineffable opinions on the destiny of
man. Returning then to a couch which I believed to have been that
of the solitary philosopher I observed a depression where another
form had lain, and in it a jade hairpin such as is worn by my
junior beauties. Petrified with amazement at the display of such
reserve, such continence, such august self-restraint, I perceived
that, lost in my thoughts, I had had an unimagined companion and
that this gentle reminder was from her gentle hand. But whom? I
knew not. I then observed Lo Cheng the Court Artist in attendance
and immediately despatched him to make secret enquiry and
ascertain the name and circumstances of that beauty who, unknown,
had shared my vigil.
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